The ElvenKing
by CheveronChick
Summary: "A king would continue to love his people, and his people would continue to love their king." Galion ponders the difference between the ElvenKing, and his King.


"I often wonder how the ElvenKing managed to raise a son like Legolas"

Galion snorted slightly into his glass, if his count was correct that was the fifth slight mentioned of his King since he had entered the hall of fire. Both Lord Elrond and Glorfindel gave him deeply apologetic looks, only to find a small smile on the other elf's face. With a disinterested shrug Galion waved away their silent concerns.

One could not be in service to King Thranduil for as long as he had been and not be used to such comments, especially when those from Lorien were visiting. It happened so often in fact, that it had become a sort of joke in the Woodland Realm. And personally, Galion could not wait until finally the other elven realms realized it.

He could not fault the other elves for their comment. They were taken with his dear Prince, but not with the ElvenKing. A predicament that Galoin had come to realize was a very confusing feeling for some.

He himself was incredibly attached to Legolas, as were most who met him. The Prince was still so obviously young, but more for character than lack of experience. He was cheerful and good natured, with a laugh that was almost infectious. He took great joy in storytelling, and would make pleasant talk with any who wished to speak to him.

It was part of the reason why Legolas had become the unofficial presence for his father. Thranduil rarely had any need nor desire to leave his realm and visit any council, meeting, or celebration he was invited too. It deeply surprised Galion that none of the other realms thought to ponder if it was partially due to their view of him. Perhaps they knew, and didn't care.

However, Legolas enjoyed visiting new places, and meeting new people. So once the prince became of age, he had nearly begged his father for three straight weeks to allow him to travel to Rivendell for a yule celebration in his place.

For the first time that Galion could remember, his dear king had finally met his match for stubbornness. Eventually, he had relented to his son. After being asked no less than thirty times a day for permission, as well as watching his son determinedly solve every possible mishap he could think of as a reason for Legolas not to go.

By the end of the three weeks, Legolas had somehow convinced not only Galion to travel with him, but also the weapons master and one of Thranduil's dearest friends. Twenty - Seven well trained warriors, one for every day he had pestered his father, who otherwise had no other duties or activities that needed attending. He was borrowing a messengers horse, who knew the way to Rivendell and back, and would be able to get Legolas home safely if he were to get lost or separated. He performed a series of ridiculous training exercises to prove he was able to defend himself, all ending with a pointed look at his father.

Eventually, the king could take no more. It was over dinner one night that finally Galion heard the defeated words, "Enough, Legolas. For Valars sake enough. Fine, you may go."

But even his king could not keep from smiling at Legolas' great cry of disbelieving joy, watching as the Prince dashed from the room to go pack his bags before his father could change his mind.

The other lands seemed to have separated Legolas and Thranduil very clearly in their minds to alleviate their confusion, Galion had come to find. Unable to see a connection between the reclusive and inherently antisocial ElvenKing, and the joyful, welcoming smile of Legolas.

Galion, Legolas, and nearly all in the woodland realm knew it was because the others compared the prince to the ElvenKing, not King Thranduil. Not their King.

So comments or jokes aimed towards the ElvenKing were not taken with slight, but indifference. To the woodland elves, they were making jokes of a person that did not exist, and there was no point having continual arguments to defend a figment of imagination. No amount of arguing was going to change their opinions.

The ElvenKing was a joke at home too, but for different reasons. Especially once the wine had been brought out and the spirits were high. Galion had heard young ones warned in jest not to travel too far into the darkness of the woods, for the ElvenKing who was sneaky and silent might be waiting. And then later that they had better eat their vegetables, before the ElvenKing finds out and it rials his great anger. When objects went missing, it was blamed on the ElvenKings greedy nature. When something was accidentally broken, it must have been the ElvenKings fault.

There had even been a song composed, by the prince himself, one fine summer evening about the ElvenKing. The entire celebration hadn't been able to stop laughing for quite some time afterwards, and even King Thranduil had shed a few tears in laughter.

Sometimes Legolas still hummed the tune to his father. Over dinner, quietly during council's, loudly when they pass in the halls so it echos after him, or times when he just wanted to make his father smile. Even once when he had blearily opened his eyes in the healing ward, to find his father exhausted and worried at his bedside. Asleep but still clutching his son's hand.

That was the King that the woodland realm knew.

A king who loved them, and they loved back. He was a King that attended celebrations with them, sitting in the grass beneath the stars, singing with joy and merriment. The King who stayed up deep into the night when needed, but also took time to go and walk with his people. The King who had lost his wife, and raised a son who he loved more than anything.

All of the woodland realm it seemed had watched Legolas grow. Their people did not have children very often anymore, and the little Prince had been such a joy.

They had seen the deep bags under the Kings eyes when his son was young and unable to sleep through the night. They had laughed when they saw the the King chasing a tiny naked prince down the hall,imploring him to take a bath. They had seen the Kings distress the first time Legolas fell out of a tree and broke his arm. They shared in the kings worry when Legolas away on patrol, as well as the pride and love in his eyes every single time he looked upon his son.

Some stories were true, Thranduil did have a temper, and he did hold a grudge. He could be incredibly impatient, and at times demanding. But his temper was never turned on his people, but outwards to the darkness in the south and those that continually refused to heed his warnings. His grudges kept them safe, keeping them out of others troubles. For he had seen and felt the grief brought by meddling in others affairs, it was how he became king, after all. He worked tirelessly for his people, and his lands, and expected others to do the same.

The woods they lived in were savage and wild, the rest of the world not much better. The problems that plagued their home were quick and intelligent, ever changing. Those that lived there had to be just as wild, just as quick. Their King even more so.

The King always credited his people for their resilience and dedication, but his people always credited him.

Galion could see at times, how others viewed his king. Uncaring, for he never attended the white councils. Aloof, for he did not casually communicate with the others. Unfriendly, for he hardly invited people to his home. Angry, for he had grown tired of their endless debating on if the darkness was real once again, even while it encroached on his home.

He had not always been this bad. Even Elrond could clearly remember the days when his sons would travel to the woodland realm upon the king's invitation, and even Thranduil himself would occasionally spend yule celebrations in Rivendell.

But as the kings frustration grew with the world, so did his reclusiveness.

And so Galion would continue to ignore any slights, and he and Legolas might even tell a few of their own ElvenKing jokes to one another. Legolas would return home and fill his father's ears with excited tales and memories of his travels. Thranduil would listen raptly to every word, and take the afternoon off to spend with his son.

A king would continue to love his people, and his people would continue to love their king. The world outside would continue to whisper and snicker, and the woodland realm would continue to ignore it.


End file.
